Descending
by watermelloncat
Summary: Liam falls sick during his time training with the League, Cole's perception of him changes. Comments are much appreciated
1. Chapter 1

An acceleration of pain to his stomach was not a pleasurable way for Liam to wake up. He groaned cracking his eyes open to see a few of his cabin mates gathered around staring and laughing at him and the boy who had hit him. Moaning he pulled his blankets up to his chest and rolled over. He was sick of all the pranks the other kids would pull on him while he slept.

In the back of his mind he could hear feet shuffling around the bunks, far more than the group that pranked him. _This couldn't be happening._ He was too tired. _Please don't let it be morning._ He listened to the group of boys around him laughing at his reluctance to get up. It wasn't his fault he felt like he was dying.

He sniffled and coughed as the decision caused a searing rip in his throat. He raised a shaking hand to it as he swallowed forcefully. His attempt to get up failed when pain spiked in his head so strongly that he was forced to lay back down. _Why did this have to happen to him?_

The answer was obvious really. Not doing well in training meant you got to the showers last, leaving no hot water for you. After weeks of cold showers, it was a sure bet that eventually some kind of illness would catch up with him.

He wondered if he would just be able to stay in bed and sleep until someone found him. Would they know to look for him? The thought was short lived when he realised that of course they would notice, he didn't have the most squeaky-clean record anyway. And besides, someone in his bunk room would rat him out.

The fact that he was sporting a wicked fever became apparent to him as his sat down alone at breakfast. His whole body felt flushed and his muscles ached and shook as he raised the spoon with his cereal to his mouth. He wasn't hungry, but he knew that at least one instructor would be monitoring him and his food intake, so he ate as much as he could. Plus, he knew he needed energy for training.

The sound of the sparing sticks clattering together was almost enough to drive him insane, the pounding in his head was disorientating. His own stick he was holding was slippering with his sweat and the weak grip his hands could manage. His clammy limbs shook so bad that it was like he was in a constant seizure. He inwardly begged for someone to notice and send him from training and back to bed. But he knew no such luck would come, he would have to die first.

His pulse echoing in his ears was only just unable to cover the sound of Instructor Morgan yelling for him to 'use some fucking offence!'

He shut his eyes and shook his head trying to rid of the fuzzy spots clouding his vision. Opening his eyes, he reacted just in time to block Gibbons's jab at him. The startled breath he'd sucked in caught in his throat and invisible hands gripped at his chest sending him into a coughing fit. Breathless he stumbled backwards before leaning against his stick as support. Pain in his head and chest spiked as he gasped for breath.

Gibbons stopped sparring and stepped away in horror, unsure of what to do. But after a look towards the Instructor watching in annoyance, he knew the answer. Wasting no time Gibbons hooked the end of his stick around behind Liam's ankle and pulled forwards.

Liam felt the rush or air pass by him as he fell backwards, he was sure the thud of his back hitting the mat echoed through the room. A cry of pain would have escaped his lips had the wind not been knocked out of him. When precious air was once again allowed to flow through his lungs, it was obstructed as the previous coughing fit was intensified. His body convulsed as each cough tore through his body, he was barely able to cover them with the back of his hand as his ribs were repeatedly lifted off the ground from the force of them.

The breathlessness and the pain left him feeling like he would be sick long after the fit had ended. Energy had been stripped from him and all he could do was lie on the ground, vaguely aware that everyone was watching him. But they wouldn't help him up, they couldn't, and even if he could speak, he wouldn't ask them to.

He's left lying there as Instructor Morgan yells for the end of sparring practice. He feels himself being rolled off the mat as Gibbons picks it up to wipe it down. Pressing his face against the cold concrete floor is a lame attempt to cool his fever, but he can't do anything else.

By the time he's able to push himself up into a ball, they've long cleared out for the cool down run. Raising a shaking hand to his sweating forehead to brush away the hair from his face, he thinks he should get going.

As he stands, he is sure that if anyone was watching him, they'd be able to make the comparison between him and a new-born lamb. Shaking violently his legs carry him along the route to run around the garage.

Liam is not a crier, but he's so exhausted that now he wants to. Habit carries him as the fuzzy spots in his eyes turn to black. He feels too hot and his headache spikes every time his feet hit the ground. If he was breathless before, he's breathless now, the frequent cough erupts from his lungs starving him of much need oxygen to function.

Deprived of breath a dizzy spell knocks him over, knees collapsing underneath him. Pain splits his skull as the black spots almost completely consume his vision. A deep cough rumbles inside him so that he leaves whatever breakfast he was able to consume in a bush.

He doesn't remember getting back up or finishing the run. The next point he registers is him with his feet stumbling through the hallway towards Cole's room. The few people milling around give him a wide berth as pitches towards an empty wall, his body trying to cough his lungs out.

He doesn't even know if Cole will be there or if he'd help him, he'd been telling Liam for months that he needs to toughen up. Also, he followed the League's rules and protocols to the T. The thoughts still wracked his brain as he reached Cole's room.

He barely had time to knock on the door before it swung open to reveal his brother standing there wide eyed, but otherwise a blank expression on his face. Liam didn't know what to do, had this been a mistake and he should turn around?

In the end his exhaustion won out and he collapsed crying into his brother's arms.


	2. Chapter 2

'What's wrong?' Cole asked trying not to let surprise overrun the tone of his voice. They had been latched together for a while, the only sound to be heard was Liam's quietening sobs. 'I feel awful' Liam choked out, his head buried in Cole's shoulder.

'Whatever you did in training, that's what they want. There's no too far' Cole began to explain. He normally wouldn't accept hugs, or whatever he was doing to support Liam's weight in that moment, but something told him that this was an exception. 'You would have done what you had to do.'

Liam made a weak sound of protest that went unnoticed by Cole. Everything about his brother's mind now days was focused on training. Somehow the prospect that this was something outside of that hadn't crossed his mind.

'Sometimes people have to do reckless things to get recognition and get ahead' Cole continued. He knows that Liam has a kind heart and struggles with the concept of hurting other people. Although he had no idea what he could have done to someone to cause this reaction, he wasn't a crier either. But none the less he was proud of him, it was time he started stepping up.

'That's not what I mean' Liam's voice was barely audible anymore. It was only then Cole noticed how hot Liam felt to him, and with fire living inside him, that was saying something.

'Lee' Cole gasped realising his slipup. He'd mistaken the shaking of Liam's frame as emotion not sickness. Pushing Liam back from their embrace to get a better look at him, he raised his palm to his forehead, 'you're running hot!'

There wasn't anything for Liam to say, so he let Cole lead his tired and pale form over to the bed. Somehow a fatherly instinct had taken over Cole. Rather than him having the mindset that Liam was inconveniencing him, like he normally had when he came to visit, he felt sorry for him.

Sitting him down on the bed, Cole looked at his sweat soaked shirt and threw him one of his from out of his draws. Liam let out a slight wince as he lifted his shirt over his head. Cole's eye twitched at the sight of the redness and bruises up and down his ribs from the sparing sticks, some of them just forming. _He must have taken a beating today._

Bringing his arms down, Liam's breath catches and he pitches forward coughing into his balled-up shirt. Cole steps back at the painful sound of the long coughs being muffled into the shirt's fabric. He can't will himself to do anything more than stand there while his brother desperately tries to regain his breath.

He shakes his head to himself, _he shouldn't have been allowed to train like this_ , not his little brother. 'I'm going to go talk to someone, you're staying the night in the infirmary.'

Liam shoots him a sceptical look. As far as he knew the infirmary is only for people who are seriously injured or can't move.

Cole pulls back the covers on his bed and signals for Liam to get in. He had no doubt that Liam would normally have rejected the notion, but he knows he is too tired to argue or question the gesture.

'You're not going back to your bunk room, can't risk anyone else catching this' Cole finishes explaining as he pulls up the covers.

To Liam it's like the most comfortable thing he's ever felt. His eyes slip closed as his body relaxes, sinking down into the soft mattress unlike the hard one his bunk has. The sheets covering him aren't scratchy like the ones they have in the bunk room and warmth instantly envelopes his body, reversing the work his fever has done to now turn him cold.

'You're not angry, are you?' Liam asks nervously, opening his eyes again to look at his brother standing over him.

'I couldn't be' it took no effort for Cole to reply. He was amazed at the strength Liam showed, still training when he was so sick. He would never admit this to him, barely to himself, but he'd definitely underestimated him. 'Just stay there and try get some sleep. I'll go sort this out.'


End file.
